


The tale of three children

by maybeheir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, fairytale, it's really just a tale i made up to be told in-universe in one of my original stories so, might be kingdom hearts inspired won't lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeheir/pseuds/maybeheir
Summary: This is a fairytale that Wanderers like to share. This part is known to the Keymasters.





	The tale of three children

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Сказка о трех детях](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140526) by [maybeheir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeheir/pseuds/maybeheir). 



Somewhere out there, far, far away, farther than any Wanderer can go, lies an island. It’s bathing in warm waves of the ocean and just as warm sunrays, and stars shine in the night sky above it.  
Once upon a time there was living three children, three siblings – two brothers, the oldest and the youngest, and their sister. 

The older brother was a great hunter, brave and strong. He knew their little island like the back of his hand – every cave, every den, every nook and cranny. He knew when and where do animals go for fresh water, knew, where he can lie in wait. He wasn’t afraid of fighting a wild beast if happens so. He was always carrying a trusty knife with him; this knife he made himself, with his sister lending a hand. There were times when this knife saved his very life. And he was willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect his little ones. 

Their sister loved sea more than anything. She danced often in the waves and seafoam, listening to the voice of the ocean and weaving her own song into it, like she weaved seashells in her threads and cords, making charms. She knew how to take other gifts of the sea, too – she could fish better than her brothers, be it with a rod, a net or a harpoon. But she also knew how to give, and she was endowing her brothers generously with everything she made. There was nothing she wouldn’t give to make her brothers happy. 

Little brother was a dreamer and loved tinkering. Every day he would come up with a new game, or a new toy, or a new trick, or something else. He weaved strong ropes, and no bird could break free from his traps. But most often he would climb onto the trees with his ropes and gather ripe fruits. He even climbed onto the tallest trees, the ones that bear stars. He let the star fly up to the sky. He would do anything so his older siblings would walk on air with him. 

Years passed, children were living together amidst endless ocean waves, and one day the youngest brother has noticed that his sister was getting sadder with each passing day, and there was nothing he could do to cheer her up. This upset him greatly, and one day, when she was sitting on the shore, looking far into the horizon, he asked, what upsets her.  
“I’d love to see something I’ve never seen before,” she said. “A wave never crashes at the shore twice but they look all the same, and all they bring is seafoam.”  
The youngest brother then went silent. What could he make up, that never was on the island, that no one of them has ever heard of? Even his toys won’t be of any help – all the old ones his sister knew already, and if he’ll make a new one, she’ll be quick to find out what its secret too.  
In his reverie, little brother turned his gaze to the sea. He looked at the waves, chased by the wind, looked at the white spume…  
And as the sun ray fell on the foam line, for a moment he thought as if myriads of twinkles shone at once – just like the stars! The same twinkle then appeared in his eyes as well, as his mind already started working on this idea, and looking at these makeshift stars, he said slyly:  
“You know, the sea gives you its greatest gift in its spume. It’s still waiting for you to find.”  
“How is that?” His sister couldn’t believe her ears.  
“Look,” he said and reached out. “The spumes have thousands of thousands of bubbles. And each bubble has an entirely new world in it, every single is not like the others. You just have to figure out how to get there, and then… you can travel all you like, wherever you want.” 

The sister loved this new tale of her young brother. Days and nights, she was spending on the shore, peering into the waves, looking for a secret door to the wonderful worlds beyond their own. But days flew by, maybe, a month or so, and she grew tired of her fruitless searches. Then she asked her older brother to help her, as she couldn’t wake the younger one sometimes, and couldn’t think of anything else herself.  
Older brother listened to her story and recognized the tale made by his brother. Such were all his tales; dreamy, unreal – but so close, so beckoning and taunting, you could think – just you reach out and there it is, living and warm.  
“I’ll do all I can,” he said, “but I’ll find you this door to other worlds.”  
And no words could describe how happy his sister was. 

Days and nights she would dream about it now. She tried to imagine, what awaits her beyond this door? What wonders will she see? And the more she dreamed, the more she imagined not only herself but all three of them wandering together over all these strange and unknown worlds. Older brother will always shield them from any harm, and younger can warm their hearts with his kind smile. And she will protect them both, she will watch over them, because sometimes even older one needed someone to shield him, and even younger one needed someone to cheer him up. Yes, they just shouldn’t separate, they should always and everywhere be together. And this thought was growing in her heart. 

One day, the sea became stormy and violent like never before. Huge waves were roaming it wherever you look, and skies, darkened with clouds, was bearing down on them. This day the older brother told his sister he found the Door. This day the sister wasn’t afraid even the icy cold winds from the sea.  
The oldest brother took her to the sea and walked up to the foam lines himself. Waves brought lots of spumes with the storm, and it was lying on the shore like piles of unseen treasures – and it was so for her.  
“Look,” the older brother said to her. “If you don’t know where is the Door and can’t find it – wouldn’t be easier to just make a new one?”  
And with these words, he sank his knife into the foam. Strange as it was, but the foam didn’t back away from the knife, like water, but instead knife cut through it like through a tough skin. Slowly and carefully he cut the way through the foam like he cut ways through the thick bushes for his younger ones.  
“Now we can go wherever you want!” he said. “Come on, follow me. I’ll make way for both of you, and you come after me, alright? Like playing tag!”  
He stepped inside his makeshift hole in the foam and disappeared from sight, and the wave came crashing down on the spot where the foam was cut, breaking it and forbidding from finding it again. But somehow the sister new – even with the foam lines gone, the Door didn’t go anywhere. She knew where the Door was, she could even point it out, but couldn’t go in. Not without her youngest one, no, she couldn’t leave him alone.  
Fortunately, he came quickly, and just as quickly understood what’s happened. He only couldn’t believe that his own hastily made make-believe is true, and their brother just left to the other world and waiting for them. All of this looked too wild to be true, more like someone tried to make fun of him and his dreams.  
But when his sister took him accurately to the Door – for her it was shining like the brightest star, her brother, however, couldn’t see it at all – but he felt a gust of strange, another wind, coming as if out of nowhere. This wind was warm and smelled of wormwood and sage.  
Only now the young one realized; they will leave their homeworld behind, and who knows if they will ever come back there. 

“So what are waiting for?” his sister asked. She wanted to see the wonders of other worlds so badly, everything that never was on their island.  
“Hold on,” he said. “If this is the Door, we need to lock it when we leave. Who knows, what can get in our home, if we leave it open?”  
He was holding a star in his hands, one of these that grew on the tallest trees of the island. This one was almost ripe, but couldn’t float up yet to join its siblings in the sky – the brother took it by mistake. He looked down at the star in his hand and realized – this was the perfect material for a key.  
The star flew up – for the first and the last time in its life, only to fall down and shatter into hundreds of little pieces. The youngest brother then picked two biggest star shards, cut two keys from them with his knife and hung them on a string around his neck. The rest of star shard was taken by the waves, but very little of them were buried in the sands. 

Brother and sister glanced back for the last time at their home, their island, for the last time listened to the roaring of their ocean.  
“Let’s go?” he said.  
“Let’s go,” she said. 

And the children disappeared in the waves like their brother did.  
And the waves washed away their footprints in the sand.

**Author's Note:**

> First installation of my Wanderers Chronicles series. I have no idea when I'll finish the entire series... but might at least start with this.  
> Please let me know if you're interested to see the whole story.


End file.
